


Mardi Gras

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mardi Gras, bennoda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike and Chester chill out before a show with a camera and small talk of Mardi Gras 2005</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mardi Gras

Chester sits on the steps of the bus with a cigarette dangling between his long fingers, his nails coated in chipped black nail polish that he should really remove but can’t be bothered to.

“Hey, Chaz?”

The singer turns to look over his shoulder just in time to see Mike snap a photo with his Polaroid camera. The emcee sniggers and steps over his friend to sit on the warm ground in front of him, shaking the Polaroid in an effort to dry it.

Chester smirks and rests his elbow on his knee cupping his chin, his cigarette still burning away between his fingers. He says, “Isn’t that like, reverse modern technology?”

Mike looks up from his Polaroid with the ink drying slowly, “What’s that?”

“A Polaroid camera...isn’t that like, going backwards? Didn’t you just buy the best, most expensive digital camera ever made by man?”

Mike laughs and holds out the Polaroid for Chester to take. “It’s ghetto, dude.” He says, “Ghetto is the new High-tech.”

Chester grins and shakes his head, pinches the edge of the Polaroid between the fingers of his free hand and inspects it closely with a faint smile. “I look stoned.”

“You mean you aren’t really?”

With a frown, the singer looks up at Mike’s smiling face and flicks his half finished cigarette over the emcee’s shoulder. “Cheeky little bitch.”

This is chilling before a show. Chester is bored and, really, didn’t come out here for the fresh air or the sunshine but to avoid having to listen to Brad and Rob going at it in the bunk section. For someone who never speaks, Rob has one hell of a pair of lungs on him when it comes to screaming Brad’s name.

Chester hands the Polaroid back to Mike and, as he leans in, fans his fingers across the rave beads looped loosely around his friend’s neck, says “Those are fucking gay.”

“Mardi Gras two thousand and five.” Not looking up, Mike brushes his fingers over the multi-coloured beads and murmurs nostalgically, “It was a fucking awesome party.”

A faint smile and Chester says “I wish I could’ve been there.”

“No, you don’t,” Mike says and looks up; there’s sadness in his eyes of an old memory he’s clinging to, “Times like that and everything else pales in comparison. Memories like that kind of...ruin good moments. Like, nothing will ever be as good as Mardi Gras.”

“Nothing will ever be as good as Mardi Gras?”

Mike shakes his head and stares blankly.

Chester reaches out and grabs the Polaroid camera from the emcee’s hands and says, “You’ve never had sex with me, then.”

Chester drops the photograph to the tarmac and they watch the photograph dry. Mike’s facial expression is priceless, stunned and confused and the light behind him shines through his hair and ricochets off the beads around his neck. His face is speckled with colour and his eyes wide and Chester says “Gay.”


End file.
